Harley Quinn Drabbles
by DieByTheBeach
Summary: A series of drabbles that center around Harley Quinn and various characters paired with her. (Submit your own prompts if you'd like!)
1. Caught in the Act

She'd learned to take care of certain _things_ by herself over the few years the blonde's spent with her beloved psychopath, no not psychopath, genius boyfriend. Sometimes one of them will be in Arkham for a few months, and it gets pretty lonely in those damn abandoned comedy club hideouts when there's no heist to do or flying rodent fight.

Harley doesn't thing anything's wrong with her when one little thought of her puddin turns into two, which snowballs into a million different things swirling around in her head about not the cleanest things. What? A girl's got needs too, nothing wrong with it. Especially when her poor J has been locked in some padded, white cell for four whole months.

The harlequin tries to tell herself that it's natural, because it is, and it's something normal, everyone does _it._

She still screeches in horror when the Joker bursts into their bedroom, a tightly tied up Batman being dragged along who's eyes widen at the sight of Harley Quinn with her shirt up and one hand shoved down the front of the panties that have a bright yellow bat symbol right across the front. Mistah J's laughter doesn't stop for at least four hours.

* * *

 **Hello! This'll be an on going drabble series of whatever ideas pop into my head. They'll all be Harley but various pairings. JokerXHarley, PoisonQuinn, and even more. So if you have a prompt please drop it in the comment box and I may write it!**


	2. Surprise

Deep crimson flows freely from her wound, the thick liquid dripping down onto the counter she sits on and running down the cracked bathroom sink. Old ceramic tiles line the walls and floor, about a dozen of the dirty white squares missing or damaged, a single dull light bulb flickers above as a green haired mastermind holds torn bath towels against the girl in front of him's shoulder.

A loud, high pitched wail echoes through the tiny bathroom. It burns and Harley's screaming and sobbing because she's never been _shot_ before. It's worst than anything the Bats, or Mistah J combined have done to her. There's flaring hot white blinding pain as Joker presses down and the non-stop bleeding wound. In medical school (she doesn't remember it very well, all the days before her puddin' kind of blur together like a distant dream) she remembers learning how much blood was in the human body, tear blurred eyes taking in scarlet stained porcelain beneath her.

"Shut the fuck up Harley!" He's yelling at her now, frustrated at the endless flow of pained sounds coming from the pale girl's mouth. The heist turned bad pretty quickly, ten or more mobsters surrounding them are the few idiotic goons allowed to tag along. Apparently there's quiet the prize for killing the Clown Prince of Crime. "Nothing personal," The well built Russian man had growled out, pointing a 9mm right into his temple.

That was until Harley, that stupid girl, very literally clawed out the man holding her's eyes. While he screamed like a baby the blonde had charged at the most likely head mobster, knocking the gun away from being pointed at her beloved's head. Of course, she didn't think that the man would be able to shoot _her_ so fast.

"M-M-Mistah J..." It wails out in her signature high pitched whines, "Make it stop!"

It shot clean through thankfully, no trying to dig out a bullet from the squirming girl's shoulder. But she's _screaming_ and _crying_ right into the Joker's ears and he's pretty sure that Bats will find their makeshift hideout if she keeps this up. It's completely out of the necessity getting her to be silent that he unceremoniously leans forward and _kisses_ her.

Harley's eyes become comically wide, going cross eyed to look at her puddin's face as he tightly wraps up bandages around her arm while mashing his scarred lips against hers. She's gone deathly silent and still, because he's never kissed her before. It seems silly, to be in love with someone and never have been kissed them. God knows they've done so much more than that. But Harley was always the one to do it. A peck in the morning when he woke up, for which he'd shove her away and she'd just giggle. Or when they'd completed a job, in the back of a get away van with her lips moving against his still ones.

She can't tell if she passes out from blood loss or shock.

* * *

 **Also posted on tumblr under my blog HypnoticHoneymoon... Please review!**


	3. A Necklace of Leather

The leather is tight, not tight enough to affect breathing and swallowing, but tight enough that she always feels the material clinging to her pale neck like hug. Well, maybe not a hug, more like a noose. A noose that doesn't kill her but makes her burn with passion and life.

"Do you know why daddy got you this?" Mistah J had growled into her ear, snapping together the collars ends behind her head. Harley's arm wrap around his shirtless torso, her forehead nuzzles into this mastermind's neck, blonde hair is brushed aside so he can admire the dangerous looking collar with lust. Buckles and spikes line the length and red outlines black leather and a signature J is elegantly placed right on her throat.

"Because you want everyone to know I'm yours." Harley, totally not innocent, says like a little girl and it pleases him. This _God_ in her eyes has chosen her as his possession and burned himself deep within her brain to the point every thought before him has turned to ash and blew away.

She doesn't mind really, not remembering what her mother looked like or how old she was when she rode a bike without training wheels for the first time. Because she'll happily wear the signs of her loyalty around her and follow her master around much like the puppy dog in love she is.

"Now Harls," his wicked grin spreads and so does her's, "Lets go show it off."

* * *

 **Sorry for my poor updating time, my laptop broke so I can't write very often!**


	4. Different

She's crying like a bitch.

There's tears pouring down over child-like full cheeks, her shirt is gone and the red bra strains against every heaving gulp of air she takes in. He's looming over her with his _favorite_ knife. it's already craved her thighs up, blood staining the mattress like artwork, cuts that'll become forever reminders of who she really belongs to.

"Tsk tsk," His tongue clicks with disappointment, "Harley girl, you seem to be broken."

His hands pull her pigtails so hard she nearly passes out, if it weren't for the sharp smack that follows it she possibly would have right there. She's all feeling and it isn't good, everything is blurring into shades of green, white and purple. The red smile leers at Harley once more and it says, "Let daddy fix you."

She does.

..

Her doctor's name is Travis.

He doesn't make her call him Doctor. Tells Harley he thinks it'll be more beneficialto her _treatment_ if they can be friends. Right? Friends? Friends inside concrete walls only one of them gets to leave at night. It even feels like her old times in college when he laughs at a few of her non-violent jokes and tells her stories about the latest hit tv shows she's missing.

Harley calls him Travis and he calls her Harley.

He calls her Harley when he holds her hand on him and whispers that it's _ok_ and stop crying because we're friends this is what friends do, but Harley remembers friends and they didn't hold their hands over your mouth and tell you to lay still. After their sessions he pulls her Arkham issued pants up and sends her away with the guards.

The staff doesn't believe her when she says something. Her Mister J laughs.

..

The henchmen learned not to make passes at her pretty quickly.

Except one.

Joker finds him with Harley, held down on her knees with bruises on her arms he didn't make.

The goon's dead before he can speak. Harley lets out a relieved sob but stops short when her puddin simply takes the man's place in front of her against the cold brick wall of their current hideout and says, "Nobody touches my stuff but me."

..

Ivy is different.

It's all soft touches and giggles and interlocked legs, it's happy and feels nice and Harley doesn't _understand_ it. She knows, at some time before everything got crazy, before she got crazy, this was normal. This is good. Red strokes her arms instead of pinning them, she makes her pretty flowers lean in and brush against Harley's bare legs.

Red makes colors burst and makes Harley feel like soaring.

Ivy doesn't treat her like she expects.


End file.
